Celebrations
by Ferus Grim
Summary: One-shot. One year after Harry Potter defeats Voldemort... and dies.


**Disclaimer:**_ No, I do not own Harry Potter. I wish I did, but I don't. All I have is my imagination and a computer, which thankfully has a monitor, mouse, keyboard, and a linux distro that comes with OpenOffice. ;) HOWEVER, I do own my plot, my ideas, my brain, and my imaginary friend, Geoffrey, who insist that he isn't imaginary. SHUT UP GEOFF! IT'S THE TRUTH!............ anyways, story-time._

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**Celebrations**

"I thought you should know," came the small voice of a girl from far away, "not a day passes by that we don't think of you."

The voice of the unknown girl stopped, and the next words were uttered, as if said through a blanket of tears, her mouth almost unwilling to say the words, "Especially me."

"Even though everyone in our world goes on, chanting and cheering about how great your battle with Riddle was, yes they say his name now that the fear is gone, the cowards, how brave you were, how _grateful_ they are that you rescued them," She continued now, on a rant, "we never stopped knowing what truly happened... how much was truly lost. Even with Voldemort dead and his evil gone, the world is still even so darker, because you're gone."

"Ron wanted to be here, but you know how he is," The small voice continued. Even though it was far away, it was still heard as if through a tunnel. Even though it was far away he, or whatever he was since he didn't know, could still tell it was familiar, "Always bad with words."

"It's been a year now, you know," The girl sniffled again. "Since you killed him. It wasn't worth it. Your life was worth more than to be the Wizarding World's savior, Harry."

Was that his name, Harry? Wizarding world.... why did all this sound familiar. Maybe she wasn't even talking to him. After all, it was pretty far away. Maybe these words were meant for someone else. He didn't believe that theory, however.

"Merlin, Harry." She continued, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, "It's my fault, I know it is. I could have done more. I let you face him alone. I knew it was a bad idea, I just knew it!"

He wanted to comfort her. He couldn't see her, but he could tell from her voice that she was distressed. Why did he care though? He didn't know this girl... then again, she sounded so familiar. Like from a past life.

"Why did you ask me to stay behind?" the voice asked no one in particular, even though he knew it was directed at him. He willed himself to say he didn't know what he was talking about. But he couldn't remember how to speak. "I could have done something. I might not have made it, but I could have helped! I'm not worthy to stay here if you couldn't. You gave up everything for these people and what do they have? A bloody _fucking_ celebration! Like your death was a _good _thing. I understand that Voldemort's dead now, Harry, I really do," she continued, "But your death was worth much more than anyone could possible comprehend. Today should be a day of mourning. At least some of us are. To me, every day is..."

The tears weren't hidden now. She wasn't trying to hide them. She hiccuped as more tears fell from her eyes, rolled down her cheeks and either ended up running into her mouth, or off onto the ground were they made an almost audible splash in the snow below her feet. He could see now. Not from what he would expect to be where his body was, but in an ethereal view, above what he assumed his grave was. After all, she was talking like he was dead.

"I can't stand the world without you, Harry. It's cold. It's empty..." She cried unabashedly, "I miss the fun we had together, the laugh you laughed, and the smile that was almost plastered to your face."

He started to cry, or started to do what his memory allowed him to remember as crying. He remembered the war, the bigotry, his friends, everyone... except for this brown, curly-haired girl before him. And yet, he couldn't help but love her, even if he didn't know who she was.

"Everything about you, Harry, was everything that mattered to me." A chill went down his ethereal spine, "I still love you now... as I loved you then. Nothing, not even death, can change that."

"I hope you're happy, wherever you are." She went on, more tears spilling onto the ground over his grave, a small melted hole in the snow, "I'm glad that you're finally at peace... even though I wish I could spend it with you, here."

He walked, moved, drifted, or anything he could to get his form closer to hers. Whatever he did, however, had the desired effect, as he did indeed, or at least his vision, did move closer. He couldn't see his body. He willed his ethereal presence, or soul as he thought it seemed, to embrace her. It was warm.

The girl gasped, as she felt a warming touch on her body. Instead of fear gripping her, she was welcomed with comfort. She sighed and a lone tear slid down her cheek. He stopped it from reaching her mouth, his finger tracing over and up the line that it had alone created on her face.

She inhaled deeply and took a step back, "Harry?" Her voice was high, fearful, but filled with a hope that almost made him cry himself. His memories came back and he was floored. His old memories were recreated in his mind. All of them now sharper and mostly included her. Long nights standing guard duty outside of Death Eater locations, fights between the two, silly arguments. Along with the bad came the good.

Moonlit outings and home-cooked food eaten from candlelight between the two filled his memory, and he spoke.

"Hermione?"

He felt a large pain in the back of his head. It felt as if he was being shoved through a pencil-sized hole, only to reemerge after having been lit on fire with gasoline fuel. He slammed hard, or so it seemed, his body was still numb, into the ground. The first thing he noticed, other than a white-face Hermione Granger, was the imprints his body made on the ground. He saw his body.

She said it again, but this time not in a question. She said it in a tone that would make the most cold-hearted man in the universe reel back from shame and self-pity, "Harry..." Since he was the farthest thing from cold-hearted, he couldn't help but shed a tear.

"I'm here," He spoke, and looked down at his body, as if to make sure of it himself, "I think..."

She let out a breath before Harry felt another sharp pain, but this one was in his chest, and it wasn't the work of nature. Hermione had dissapeared. When he looked down at the source of his ache, he released that it was the girl who had spilled out her soul to him. The girl who stood by him his whole life. The _woman_ who did more to help him than anyone else. The _woman_ who he loved. Before he could process that she had launched herself into her arms or realize that she had slammed him into the ground from from the force of the hug, her lips were on his, and the world melted into a steamy goo.

After emerging from the kiss, long after the need for air had passed, the two locked eyes and he pulled her head against him. It fit perfectly on his chest, her head right under the crook of his neck. This was all that either of them needed for quite a while.

**-oOoOo-**

He opened his eyes to the brightness of the morning sun. Snuggled into his side was the love of his life. His 'only'. He nudged her head and kissed her tenderly on the lips, her eyes opened sleepily. "I was afraid it was a dream," she said.

"I'm supposed to be dead and _I_ was scared it was a dream." She smiled and kissed him back, rolling on top of him, deepening the kiss. She stood up.

"Where are you going?" He asked, standing up as well, "I though we could stay her for a while and have some fun."

"Harry, you're still a sex-addicted teenager, aren't you?" she asked, teasingly.

"I've been dead for a year, baby." he said, his lips quivering in a mock puppy-dog face, "Give a man a break. Or a p-"

"Harry!" She cut him off, laughing. "There'll be plenty of time for that later!"

"Where are we going then?" he asked curiously.

"Well," she said, moving closer to him, "Yesterday has officially become a day for celebrations." She kissed him once more, and run off, him on her heels.

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_A/N – This was originally going to be a sad story, with her talking about how much she missed him. However, the majority vote in my mind between my five personalities went towards it being a _happy_ story, so that's what I went with. I'm not sure I wrote it greatly, considering I suck at sappy (whodathunkit). Anyways, glad you read it, and I hope you review. DeZe._


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